


I Hold You In The Highest Respect

by EllieCarina



Category: Princess Bride (1987), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action, F/M, Fighting, I know right?, Lightsaber fighting, No Smut, Oneshot, amazed kylo, princess bride mashup, slightly spoilery, snarky rey, speculative fic, spoiler - Freeform, star wars 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCarina/pseuds/EllieCarina
Summary: This is a mash-up of what I hope will happen in the (SPOILER ALERT) cliff-fight scene in Star Wars VIII and the amazing famous fight scene from The Princess Bride. AKA The Princess Bride-Reylo-MashUp no one asked for in quite this way. AKA our babies fight and flirt and I love them both so much oh my god.Parts of the dialogue as well as some of the fight descriptions are directly transcribed from here: https://sfy.ru/?script=princess_bride





	

**“How old were you?”** Her voice cuts through the sweet, peaceful breeze and hollers above a softly lapping sea, many, many leagues below their feet.

           She has no idea why she is talking when they should be fighting–but some time between the first time she could feel him gnawing at her conscience from light years away and now that they meet again face to face, she has grown accustomed to his voice, his thoughts, his warped sense of entitlement and purpose. Surprisingly, conversing with him does not feel half as awkward as it should. As if they hadn’t just chased each other up the ridge of the island; her trying to distract him from attacking his mentor and him strangely indulging in her trifles. The conversation might be just as good a diversion as any fight but beneath all that, with his painful memories of public shame and private betrayal etched into her brain as if they were her own, her well-trained curiosity borders dangerously on sincerity.

            “I was twenty-three years old,” he answers, his saber switched off in his left palm. She can feel it in his grip and knows he is keenly aware of the weight of it and her left in turn and ready to thump it on in a second’s notice. But he talks still. “When I was finally strong enough to break away from all the lies I’d been fed for as long as I could remember, I dedicated my life to the study of the Force. I learned everything I could about my grandfather. And I swore to myself that I would not fail to see his true greatness as my mother had. That I would find my uncle one day and say, ‘My name is no longer Ben. I am Kylo Ren and your father’s blood runs thicker in my veins than yours.’ That he doesn’t deserve Vader’s legacy."  
           

            “How did that work out for you?” Rey asks, but it’s not really a question because they both know the answer, know everything that’s happening. She corrects her stance, switches her weight and feel the rocks and sand adjust under her soles. He does the same but stays in place.  
“Not too successful, for the longest time,” he says, “you see, I couldn’t find him. It's been almost ten years now. I was starting to lose confidence. I really needed that map before I came upon you. Before I realized that you would lead me to him eventually. I just needed to get into your head.”

            “You couldn’t possibly have known that,” she scoffs and the sheer hybris of that statement makes her take a step forward.

            She’s caught her breath now, no need to keep tiding herself over the exhaustion from stumbling up a hill with a six foot darksider-giant in strong pursuit. His arrogance and obvious lie about his supposed strategic planning of what her kidnapping and that damned interrogation on Starkiller would’ve lead to is infuriating. Even more so because they both know full well that neither of them had known right from left once it became clear that they’d somehow force-bonded over that whole ordeal. It’s almost spite that makes her raise her lightsaber hilt. **  
**             “You are ready, then?” He asks and brings up his weapon as well. **  
**             “Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair,” she says with the most insincere mockery of gratitude. **  
**             “You are so gifted. I hate to have you die by my hand,” he says with an air of nonchalance and pomp that makes her bite the inside of her mouth in anger and her throat close with annoyance.   
            “You’re a spoiled, arrogant, overgrown brat. I hate to get your blood on my new robes.” And with a swooshing sound, her lightsaber roars to life and drenches her face in a soft blue hue. **  
**             “Begin!” He says, as if he was in control of anything–but all the same…

             It starts.

             Her jumping through the forms with brute strength and willpower, him countering with an elegant and long-practiced ease. Niima, Makashi, Sorsesu, Makashi, Soresu, Niima, Niima, Ataru. And more of the same. Kylo parries her more than he charges but when he does, she sidesteps his advances just as well as he dodges hers. They are evenly matched, their strength balanced. What her movements lack in refinement, she makes up for in speed. She is faster than him, but he is stronger. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind she can feel his slight befuddlement at her progress and mixed in with that an ounce of fear. But more disconcertingly even: a smidge of pride. And a hint of desire.

  
              She shakes that sensation as quickly as it came on and tries to focus hard on gauging his motives and next moves while he undoubtedly does the same to her. It’s almost like dancing. As if they were athletes, too faraway to damage each other but each time one makes even the tiniest feint, the other counters, and there is silence, and as they start to draw bigger circles around the plateau they chased each other to. For a while they slip into an almost choreographed rehashing of the simpler forms until Kylo obviously decides that he is done teasing her and drives further into her space. Their sabers clash against each other in such swift succession, the swishing and swooshing and the electrical clashes almost blend into a continuous melody. Kylo presses on, making her have to retreat up a rocky incline. Something sizzles behind his eyes and he smiles at her in a way that makes her furious, so she counters, swiftly and in ways she’s not sure Luke ever taught her.

  
            “Using Vapaad against me, ah?” Kylo says, mid-strike, off-puttingly delighted. **  
**             “Juyo, flyboy,” she spits, her eyebrows knitted together.   
            “You tell yourself that,” he counters, words hitting as sharply as his sword strokes.

            He still shifts his style now, changing easily into Ataru and Rey copes as best as she can.

            “Whatever,” she bites, matching his strides but not failing to notice that he is pushing her to the edge of the incline, “I can keep up, can’t I?”  
Now, there is nowhere else to go, the way she came up blocked by his broad frame, his flickering red lightsaber spewing sparks onto her hot skin. With no other alternative, she glances over her shoulder and hopes that she lands on the small stretch of grass below the incline but above the gaping abyss and manages–if barely. She half runs to wider ground with Kylo Ren staring down at her. **  
**             

             “Not with Niima, you can’t,” he says and nearly dives from the perch into free air, somersaulting dramatically over her head and landing facing her with a smug smirk. “You’re lacking there.” And then, to add insult to injury, he says, “I guess I’ll need to teach you after all.”  
She huffs and charges at him and once again, they are almost flying across the rocky terrain, never losing balance, never coming close to stumbling. They circle each other with incredible finesse, first one and then the other gaining the advantage, and by now, it's clear to both of them that this isn't just two opponents going at it, it's a lot more that that. It’s its own warped form of art and, as she realizes with a rush of heat and horror, his wicked joy at their dance is reflected in herself. And not just his borderline masochist thrills reverberating back inside her, no, it’s her very own brand of delight, her very own joy drawn from their engagement. That’s what scares her the most of all. So she attacks again, tries to force the mess of emotions raging through her into the hilt of her saber and somehow, it works.

  
              Kylo Ren is retreating now and behind him, drawing closer all the time, is the deadly edge of the cliff. Kylo fights and ducks and feints and slashes and it all works, but not for   
long, as she gradually keeps the advantage, keeps forcing him back, closer and closer to the abyss. He is not nearly as upset by this as he should be.   
            “You are wonderful!” He says and she notes with honest terror that he is _happy_ . **  
**             “Thank you,” she says, battling his wacky joy with a sarcasm Poe would be proud of. “I've worked so very hard to become so.”   
            “I admit it,” he says suddenly, the cliff’s edge really close now, “you are better than I am.”   
            She stares at him, saber locked with his overhead. “Then why are you smiling?”   
            “Because,” he starts and is, in fact, Inches from defeat, all smiles. “I know something you  don't know.” **  
**             “And what is that?” **  
**             “I am not left-handed,” he declares and twirls around, switching his saber from his left to his right hand and immediately, the tide of battle turns.

Kylo pushes her on, against her frantic attempts to keep him with his back to the cliff but she fails. Everything fails. He drives her away, into a pathetic retreat, towards that damned incline again. She tries one or two final desperate moves but they are nothing. **  
**             “How are you so good at this?” She is almost screaming. In part from exhaustion and in part from frustration that she can’t help but admire his vigour and skill. **  
**             “I ought to be after twenty years of training,” he says and with it, pins her against the rocks of the little hill with nowhere to retreat to.   
            “Wait!” She imposes, smelling the stone disintegrate under the assault of Kylo’s laser beam. “There's something I ought to tell you.” **  
**             “Tell me,” he says, breathless, eyes locked on hers and suddenly, she’s acutely aware of how close he is. With his saber singing the rocks beside her head, his free hand pinning her sword hand against the hill and his thigh wedged between hers, there’s a strange, terrifying and powerful pull to close that distance and–do what exactly? She has no idea. All she knows is that he can feel it too. And that she needs to get out of there and soon, before something inconceivable happens. **  
**            “I am not left-handed either,” she says but it comes out almost like a whisper.

            He’s so lost in the moment that he misses her force-charge and barely catches himself from falling buttom-first onto the grass as she changes hands. To Kylo’s palpable amazement, he is being forced back toward the edge again. He tries one form, another, but it all comes down to the same thing–she’s got the upper hand now. And before Kylo knows it, his home-built saber is knocked clear out of his hand. There’s a heartbeat of silence between them, her armored and him bare but she does not use the moment and watches him dramatically jump over her head once again, as if he was weightless. She scrambles for his hilt and picks it up from the floor. He is too close to reach but now she has his weapon.

             Without thinking, clearly, she throws it over to him and he catches it on reflex. Then realizes what she did and stares at her with eyes as wide as stars.

            “Rey.” He mutters, the saber flying into his force grip. “Why did you do that?” **  
**             “No reason of consequence,” she says. Hoping that that’s true. **  
**             “I must know.” This is the rawest tone she has ever heard from him. **  
**             “Get used to disappointment,” she says, her throat uncomfortably dry but her voice thankfully holding up. 

             Into his ever-questioning gaze, she cuts another attack, moving like lightning, thrusting forward, slashing, darts back, all in almost a single movement and a heartbeat later Kylo dodges, blocking her but again she thrusts forward, faster even than before, and again Kylo dodges. On it goes, back and forth across the rocky terrain, their feet moving with the grace and speed of wild beasts. There is a brief moment when Kylo looks like he has accepted defeat and is ready to die by her hand but then Rey realises how close she’s gotten to the edge and suddenly the tables have turned again.

              “Now you think of Han Solo?” Kylo says, taken aback with what he finds in Rey’s head–the image of Han plunging to his death, his body cut open by the earlier model of the lightsaber currently crackling against hers. “I told you before, he can’t save you anymore.”

              “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding,” she spews, shuffling backwards even closer to the edge. “I can feel that it hurt you, I know you’re in pain!”

              “Pain.” He repeats and tilts his head, his full lips puffing up into a sly scowl. “Life _is_ pain, my scavenger. Everybody who tells you otherwise is trying to sell something.”

              Kylo inches her forward even now and his immediacy destroys Rey’s tactics. His eyes are green and blue and huge on hers and she thinks she will fall any second. She can’t even try and hit his blade with hers again, even the swing would send her over the edge.

              So she says, “Kill me quickly.” She means it, even if a fraction of her mind is convinced that he never could. **  
**               “I’d as soon destroy all the kyber crystals in the universe as a miracle like yourself. However, since I can't have you following me either while I find Skywalker–”

  
              And with that he sends her flying into the abyss but before Rey can even scream, she can feel the Force around her, his mind edging in on hers and his power surrounding her, making her float through the air like a feather until setting her down softly on a ledge of the cliff; wide enough to be safe but too far down to jump back up. She will have to climb. **  
**             “Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect,” he says quietly, technically too far above her for the sound to carry but she can hear him oh so damned clearly in her head.  “There’s no one in the universe but you who is a match for me. I could never destroy you. I could never bare it.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> So..I know that the cliff-scene won't play out like that but I like the feeling of this. What do you think?


End file.
